


All Thanks to the Heist

by Ariel_Riddle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, As Much of A Slow Burn As One Can Manage in 8K, Brooding Draco, Dramione Duet 2017, Dramione Duet Exchange, F/M, My Attempt at Light, PWP, Porn With Plot, Sassy Hermione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 07:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12206460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariel_Riddle/pseuds/Ariel_Riddle
Summary: Hermione only meant to make a quick stop at the bookstore during her lunch break. How was she to know she would be ‘tied up’ a bit longer than she intended to be?





	All Thanks to the Heist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrBenzedrine89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrBenzedrine89/gifts).



> The prompts were: Trapped in a store during an attempted robbery AND--"You know...that's not what an apology sounds like." - "Bite me." Thank you so much to the wonderful LeanaM for Alpha’ing and Beta’ing this piece. I appreciate your help immensely! Thank you to my partner, MrBenzedrine, who provided me with a wide range of prompts and kinks to work with that were creative, original, and fun. I had fun writing this story for you and I hope you enjoy! Thanks so much to ningloreth for hosting another awesome Dramione Duet exchange C:

****

**~oOo*oOo~**

In retrospect, Hermione realized it was doomed to be a shite day from the start.

She'd spilt hot tea all over her blouse, and though she'd Scourgified it, she still reeked of ginger pear. Her favorite quill, the one with the refillable ink charm Ron had gifted her after a trip to Beijing, had inexplicably snapped. Gimpet had been especially dense, insisting she procure a specific book before she even attempted to open the contents Bill had Floo'd by lock box from Egypt. The nerve of the goblin, telling her how to do her job. She was a more than competent cursebreaker all on her own, thank you very much.

That's how she found herself at Obscurus Books - because of course Flourish and Blotts didn't carry the title - in the pouring rain on an unusually vexing Wednesday afternoon.

Smoothing out her heritage coat, now quite possibly ruined by the unexpected downpour, she fished for a wand that wasn't there. Right, she inwardly berated herself as she remembered exactly where her wand was. _Because in the four years I've worked at Gringotts, I've never left my wand sitting on my desk._

Unable to cast a drying spell, she was forced to enter the bookshop drenched and dripping, worried she would irritate the clerk, but she frowned when she saw the desk to be glaringly empty. Even more perturbing, notes that she'd written on the palm of her hand were now blurred and running down the length of her skin in a dark streak of black. _I'm a mess,_ she mused.

Yes, it would appear it was one of those types of days.

So of course it only made sense that it should get worse.

"Granger?"

Hermione jumped at the sound of that particular voice. She felt his stare on her even before she turned around, heart pounding and stomach aflutter. Steeling herself, she turned around and slanted her gaze over to meet pewter grey eyes.

Quelling her nerves, she drew on her courage to speak but was rather rudely interrupted.

"What are you doing here?" Malfoy narrowed his eyes in blatant irritation for some unfathomable reason.

"Just admiring the vellichor." When he merely stared at her, she explained further. "You know, the wistfulness of bookshops."

"I believed that word only applies to _used_ bookshops," he muttered irritably.

She bristled at the correction, trying to determine if the insufferable prat was right, but before she could respond, he spoke again.

"You should really leave—now, in fact."

Hurt briefly flickered across her eyes. "Whatever for?"

"There's a storm coming."

Hermione thought back to the storm that was practically raging outside. Was that what he was referring to? The words had sounded oddly cryptic, as if they had a double meaning.

He darted a glance around the bookshop. "Get going, then."

The surprise was quickly overwhelmed by the rush of anger that swept through her. "Well that's rather rude, isn't it?"

Malfoy had the gall to sigh - as if _she_ were the one vexing one - as he ran a hand through tousled platinum hair distractedly.

She sank her teeth in her bottom lip. It sort of looked better when it was all mussed up like that, in her opinion.

"Just trust me on this."

She snorted. "You know...that doesn't _sound_ very much like an apology."

His eyes flashed perilously and his hands balled into fists. "Bite me."

Anger blazed in her eyes at his abrupt dismissal. He couldn't be that angry over last week...could he? "Shouldn't you be searching for the Ironbelly Syndicate?" She folded her arms over her chest. "Instead of disturbing innocent passer-bys going about their business."

Molten silver eyes narrowed, becoming so intense, she wondered for one odd moment of they could skewer through to her very soul. "Shouldn't you be at work?" Another shifty glance. "Potter said you were working today."

Hermione furrowed her brow in confusion. "Why in Merlin's name would Harry be updating you on my work schedule?"

But if he intended to answer her, she did not get to hear it. At that moment, Malfoy pushed her away, pulled out his wand and turned his attention to the doorway. Hermione had just enough sentience to scurry for cover when Malfoy became swept up in a rapid exchange of spells. She felt them sizzle hotly past her head as she crawled behind a shelf. The smell of burnt parchment assaulted her nostrils. Her heart clenched at the injustice of the poor books being caught in the crossfire.

She pressed her hand against the shelf and dared to peek around the edge. Merlin, but Malfoy was quick with his wand. It was like an extension of himself. Her mouth ran dry as she watched him duel, casting spells as gracefully as a dancer. But it quickly became clear that he was outnumbered. By the number of spells Hermione saw hurdling towards him, she would guess there were three duelers on the other side of the aisle. _Wonderful—of all the days to forget my wand!_

Even worse, the realization that Malfoy was trying to get her out of the bookshop and back to safety - because he had been expecting such an attack - made her feel terrible. _And I just thought he was being petty about Owling him. How very self absorbed._ Hermione did not have the luxury to keep mentally berating herself, because Malfoy was losing the fight, and he was barely avoiding hits, and she was desperately trying to think of a way she could help him.

When he fell to his knees, his hands whipping to link behind his back, secured by some invisible binds, Hermione made a valiant attempt to reach for her magic, but Merlin—she could only do simple wandless spells! An Accio, _maybe_. For the first time, true terror exploded through her chest—she _hated_ being helpless.

"Look for any others," a gruff voice said. "Hurry and find the book so we can get out of here."

Another voice mumbled something in response, but then the sound of footsteps drawing nearer to her hiding place became her biggest concern.

Well…

Maybe that wouldn't exactly be a bad thing. If one of the attackers came closer, Hermione could possibly take them by surprise and force their wand from them. If she were quick enough, she could then release Malfoy and the two of them might be able to overpower the attackers.

She chanced a glance at Malfoy who inexplicably seemed to know what she was thinking. His eyes were so intense, and Hermione got the distinct impression he was telling her no. Okay, the slight shake of his head was definitely a no. Hermione shrugged her shoulders. _I have no choice_ , she mouthed.

The opportunity came a second afterwards and Hermione launched herself at the unknown wizard unlucky enough to round the corner as she attempted to wrench his wand from his hand. From below, she heard scuffling on the ground and imagined that Malfoy was pointlessly trying to break through his binds, but she couldn't focus on that. Instead she clawed and scratched and kicked until she was suddenly…

...Kicking air.

Only seconds later did she register the _Incarcerous_ that came from across the room, around the same time that she felt thick ropes sneak up around her and tighten around her person. Suspended in the air, she did a slight flip, wincing as she heard a cracking at the base of her spine, before she landed promptly on her bum. Biting her lip, she slowly looked up to face the disapproval rolling off Malfoy in waves. _Sorry_ , she mouthed. _I had to try!_

"Are there any others?" said the first voice.

"Perhaps if you swept the place properly the first time."

Hermione heard a litany of swears. "I'm busy looking for the bloody book."

"Bugger that, we can't afford to have any more _unexpected guests_ on the loose. Round them both up and lock them in the next room so we can search freely."

Hermione tensed her muscles, testing the binds, but the ropes only squeezed her tighter. The burly wizard approached her like he was coming up to a stray kelpie, but he still pulled her roughly to her feet. The other intruder swooped down to pluck Malfoy's wand from the floor, before tucking it somewhere in his robes. Malfoy did not require assistance as he followed them to the adjoining room. They sent them inside with a push and slammed the door behind them.

Hermione stared with guilty eyes at Malfoy as he walked the length of the room. She couldn't help feeling like she was partially to blame for their rather sudden captivity. She pressed her back against the bookcase and slid down against it, trying to find a comfortable position in her stringent binds. Hopefully this would all be over quickly. She didn't fancy being locked in a room alone with Malfoy for very long.

**~oOo*oOo~**

Draco was fuming.

He prowled the tight space of the enclosure in several long strides. He tried to remind himself this was simply a minor hiccup in their plans, but he couldn't help replaying the past five minutes over and over in his head.

She had distracted him.

When he saw her for the first time since she'd returned from her trip, standing there drenched from the rain, in a tightly cinched coat that did nothing to conceal her curves, he was rather jarringly caught off guard. Operation aside, he was torn between being glad to have finally caught up with her, and irritated that it was here of all places—on _this day._

He was off his game, so much so that he hadn't even been able to get a simple Patronus off during the fight. It had been up to him to guard the front door, with Potter and Weasley guarding the two back entrances. Draco suspected the Syndicate would be more liable to simply waltz in through the front entrance, rather than sneak through the back, it was just a bookstore after all, and the gang did always hide in plain sight.

It would appear Draco had been correct in his suspicions.

And now he'd missed the signal.

It wasn't too grievous an error, in just a few moments the rest of the Auror team would get here, and all Draco could hope for was that the Ironbelly Syndicate stuck around long enough to meet them. The possibility that they could not find what they were looking for and would still be in the bookstore pointlessly searching was quite high. It was impossible for them to find the book, actually - a smile stretched across his face - seeing as the whereabouts of the rare tome had been fabricated to begin with.

Draco suddenly remembered Granger, slumped against the bookshelf and watching him with curious eyes.

He became especially aware of how crazy he looked, pausing mid step to grin madly at nothing in particular.

He cleared his throat loudly. "You never do listen, do you?"

She inhaled as if she had been holding her breath and his attention fell to her chest where the curves of her breasts were pressed together and peeking over the opening of her coat. It was a delectable sight, to be sure, sans their current predicament.

"You might have simply come out and told me something was going down. There was no need to be so cryptic about it."

He snorted. "Would you have listened?" He listed his head, as if challenging her to contradict him. "No, I suspect if anything you would insist on helping, even if it didn't involve you at all."

She bristled, her face burning crimson. "That's quite an assumption." She met his resultant scowl with blazing defiance. "And anyway, it would appear you could've used the help."

Draco felt the corners of his lips beginning to tug, but suppressed the urge to smile. If anything, it would only irritate her further. He narrowed his eyes and tried to look affronted. "Do you even know who we are dealing with?"

Just like that, the anger melted away to be replaced with budging curiosity. "The Ironbelly Syndicate?"

"The Niffler and the Jarvey, to be specific. Didn't catch the third."

"Really—the two most notorious thieves of the gang? How did you manage to lure them here - to Diagon Alley - of all places?"

He smirked. "Misinformation."

"Oh?"

"We leaked false information in the hopes that it may bait them out of hiding."

"Something of real worth should be kept at Gringotts for safekeeping," she informed him smugly.

"It is at Gringotts, but if they knew that, they wouldn't attempt to steal it." He pursed his lips, her sanctimonious retort setting his teeth on edge. "Only barmy Gryffindors attempt to take things from there."

She looked away, choosing to ignore the jibe and instead glaring at the shelves opposite them. "I still say you might have saved us both the trouble by simply telling me from the beginning."

He turned around and sat across from her against an island of bookshelves in the middle of the small room. "Perhaps you're right, but it doesn't much matter now. Potter and Weasley should be making a sweep any second. The operation isn't completely ruined."

**~oOo*oOo~**

Hermione ran an errant finger along the sash hanging down from the loop of her belt. It was the only thing her outstretched fingers could reach, and she needed to fiddle with something, if only to ease her mind from this horrible predicament.

She contemplated the bizarre situation she found herself in. Of all the things she might consider would happen to her in a day, this certainly wouldn't make the list. And yet she was here - with Malfoy - whom she'd last seen before her trip. It had been a splendid time, really, and she could kick herself for not getting back to him sooner. She looked down at the ropes that secured her, staring at them as if her gaze alone could dissolve them. It wasn't the most dignified position to catch herself in—that was certain.

"How was Moorea?" Malfoy looked at her with polite interest.

Hermione's stomach did a sudden flip, quite unprepared to discuss her recent trip because along with that conversation came questions she wasn't ready to answer.

But the trip.

Well, it was quite a romantic setting, wasn't it? With its crystal clear waters that were as transparent as glass, lush greenery and sweet smelling flowers everywhere she turned, an over-water bungalow that hovered prettily on the sea - it was quite clearly a place meant for couples - perhaps not an ideal choice for a Girls' trip. But then, it couldn't really be classified as a Girls' trip, because most of the time, Hermione found herself heading to the predetermined excursions quite alone until she finally decided to skip them altogether and read on the lanai outside her room.

Everyone had got laid but her.

How that was possible, Hermione was sure she didn't know. She wasn't aware that many single men even frequented such a place alone, but then, she supposed, they didn't have to be exactly single. Wherever Ginny, Lavender, and Parvati had found their hookups from, the only thing that mattered was that they had found them rather quickly and that had left Hermione pathetically alone during the latter half of the much anticipated _Girls' trip._

If only it were that easy for Hermione to let loose. She just wasn't interested in those encounters, and it seemed men weren't interested in anything but. Not that she would have exactly done anything about it if she had, as Ginny was fond of reminding her. Hermione was not one to let her guard down easily, but even then, she'd been to Theodore and Millicent's soirée - with _Malfoy_ \- and it had been lovely. They were hardly serious yet, but there had been a certain intensity there that Hermione was hard pressed to deny. Really, between her reading, it was actually all she could think about.

How silly of her to be so… _enamored_ with someone after a simple date. The fact that she kept thinking about Malfoy, when they hardly knew each other apart from a professional history and a sordidly complicated relationship in school, was a bit alarming. She didn't want to lose her head too quickly. Although speedy courtship leading to marriage after Hogwarts wasn't exactly rare—just look at Ron and Pansy for a case study. Their speedy relationship took off faster than a Snitch in a snowstorm. And no, that was not bitterness she felt—Pansy was her friend—and the former Slytherin probably would have made a sight better companion on the wretched girl's trip than any of her current companions had.

Tempering her inner turmoil, she injected pleasantness into her words. "Lovely, thanks for asking." And then, as her voice seemed to carry in the uncanny silence, she stumbled forth more words. "I needed the time away, I think."

He tilted his head, a faint smirk still present on his lips. "You were supposed to Owl me on your return."

Hermione really wished she had the freedom of her hands. So here it was then, he'd addressed the elephant in the room—her cowardly avoidance of him. A tiny core of sickly guilt welled in her chest. "It's only been a week." She forced a laugh that sounded closer to a screech. "I've been busy." _Throwing myself into work,_ she thought despairingly.

He nodded, dropping his gaze, and Hermione suddenly became aware of her rather undignified position tied up as she was on the floor. Why was he staring at her so? "You want to talk about this _now_?" She shifted uncomfortably.

Her nerves were working against her, they were supposed to be fighting not positively tingling under the heat of his gaze, hoping for more. She could curse her traitorous body, but her heart rate sped up by the titillating way he looked at her. She shifted again, uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

"You know," a certain gleam passed over his grey eyes. "I must admit—I have imagined you tied up, but not quite like this."

Heat exploded through her chest and raced down her spine at the blatant implication. She could feel it in the widening of her eyes and flaming of her cheeks. He should not have said that—it was highly inappropriate! Yet, he had, and now it was suddenly hard to think, hard to breathe.

A glimmer of interest past through his gaze and his eyes sharpened in their intensity. "Or perhaps you would like something like that?"

"Malfoy," she scolded, furious with herself and the way her body seemed to react to his words, and furious with the edge of surprise she detected in his voice which only served to make her feel more disgusted with herself. "Why would you say that to me now...here!"

But his smile only widened, turning positively feral as his eyes seemed to devour her right through her discomfort. "Maybe you would like to give up control - for once - to be at someone else's mercy, to be at my mercy."

Her lips parted in shock, her body yearning to close the suddenly far too wide of a gap. This wasn't happening—it couldn't be! Had he really said that to her? They'd shared a few heated glances in passing since the war had ended, and she'd gathered the courage to agree to be his date the prior week, but she hadn't expected those words to come out of his mouth. Despite the logic her mind was spewing, her body flushed with desire. To her utter embarrassment, a whimper escaped her throat.

Malfoy shifted forward earnestly, his hands still locked behind his back. She could no longer make out the silver outline of his eyes, so lost were they in his dilated pupils. "Have you let that happen before? Given up control completely?"

Pulse thrumming, she was working up a response, but her traitorous body was already shaking her head no. How was this happening? Was he simply trying to distract her? Did he think she was that shaken by the experience? Merlin, but she had ran from Snatchers who meant to kill her, she could definitely handle dealing with some first-class thieves. To be fair, she could use a distraction, but certainly not one like this—in this particular circumstance. What was Malfoy playing at?

He slid closer. She wasn't sure if that delighted or scared her.

"Would you like to?"

Yes! Her body screamed. No! Her mind told her, but she remained paralyzed in delightful anticipation, and that perhaps was answer enough. His eyes darkened, and she wanted to look away, but felt an inexplicably strong pull that halted the movement.

"Answer me."

"I don't know," she blurted, inwardly wincing at how coarse and uneven her voice had sounded. But she was reeling at his closeness, and how was she supposed to focus? He was sort of...challenging her, maybe. And, Merlin, but when did she ever take risks anymore? She wasn't one to typically back down from a challenge, so when had she become so...complacent? She inhaled a shaky breath. "Yes," she ventured tentatively.

By then he had already drawn so close to her causing electricity to surge through her veins. He leaned in, and it was her cue to break away but… _bugger it._ She purged the distance between them, and kissed him out of sheer desperation.

Everything changed.

She would laugh at herself later, call herself overly dramatic and maybe a bit of a romantic, but the world seemed to tilt on its axis. His lips were warm and delicious and she simply melted into his kiss—there was no other way to describe it. One minute she felt as if she were made of lead and the next she was weightless, as if she'd been transported to a different stratosphere entirely, one not bound by the laws of gravity. It was preposterous, silly, and highly _intoxicating._

Her eyes squeezed shut and an odd buoyancy stirred within her. She slanted her lips against Malfoy's, relishing in the perfection of it. She wanted to drag her hands through his hair, but she was helpless to still bound as she was. She wanted to hold onto him, to squeeze his shoulders and let her fingers linger over the muscles of his back, caressing him and learning him, and keep from floating away, but she couldn't. She stayed grounded by their kiss alone, but when desire began to pool low in her belly, she wracked her brain desperately for a way to break through the damned ropes that, to her irritation, still held her.

How bizarre - to experience a kiss like this whilst tied up in a room during a robbery.

It was not a thought she could give much consideration to, because despite their inherent limitations, they were making the best of it. Malfoy's previous words coupled with his skillful mouth were beginning to make her shift in search of something else, and she feared kissing him would not be enough to sate her budding cravings.

When he broke away, a soft mewl escaped her lips. He looked a tad disheveled and the want in his eyes mirrored her own. His ardent gaze only incited her longing all the more.

"Perhaps it was a good thing you came, after all," he said roughly, before leaning into deepen the kiss.

It was like a match had been set to a tinder.

Their kiss flamed so quickly, it made Hermione's head spin. His tongue twined with hers - demanding and insistent - and it was all she could do to keep up with his heated pace. She became swept up in the madness of it all. A whimper escaped her throat but he swallowed it up, exploring the cavern of her mouth with his tongue. She arched up against him, hoping to bridge the space between them completely, allowing her curves to mold to his hard ridges. Her skin burned where it met his, even between the material of their coats, and she wished badly for the freedom of her hands—for the freedom of his.

She wanted him to touch her.

The knowledge hit her like a bludger to the chest. Being touched by Draco Malfoy was suddenly the most prominent thing on her mind. She couldn't get enough of him, and it wasn't fair that she was restrained as she was—that they both were. Her mouth moved sinuously against his, urged on by the white, hot need sparking down her spine.

She was so caught up in their kiss, she didn't hear the ruckus from behind the door until it crashed open and Harry and Ron came rushing in.

Irritated by the disturbance, she broke away to see who had interrupted them, but awareness began to return to her when she saw their familiar faces. Her thoughts came back gradually. Draco was the first to regain his composure, and when she saw him pull to his feet and face his partners.

She blushed hotly, and got to her feet so quickly, she stumbled and tripped, unable to catch herself. Her shoulder slammed against the bookshelf. Exhaling angrily, she was determined to collect herself, and became distantly aware of the conversation around her.

"...but the Jarvey got away. And what's Hermione doing here, Malfoy?"

Hermione avoided looking Malfoy's way and shot an angry glare to Harry. "I was getting a book, obviously."

"This is official Auror business, 'Mione," Ron told her slowly. "You could have gone shopping another time."

"Or whatever else you were doing," Harry said reproachfully, casting a meaningful glance between her and Malfoy. To her annoyance, she thought she detected mirth in his eyes.

This was the single most mortifying day of her life.

"If someone had told me, I wouldn't have been here at all," she seethed. "Now won't one of you please be a gentlemen and free my binds."

Ron trained his wand on first her, then Malfoy, freeing them of their restraints in rapid succession.

Hermione mumbled her thanks and began smoothing out her coat.

"You okay, Granger?" Malfoy asked, suppressing a smile that looked more feral than reassuring, and reminded her of just what she had done. Somehow, she didn't think Malfoy would be letting her forget about it anytime soon.

"Just fine," she replied tersely, averting her gaze.

He sighed. "I can't believe we had the Jarvey and he slipped away."

"At least we detained the other two," Ron offered, ever the optimist.

"Yeah, wasn't exactly a failure." Harry smiled brightly, a little too brightly for Hermione's liking.

"Right." Hermione hovered stiffly, fiddling with the sash of her coat. "Well, I'm sorry your criminal got away." She straightened with as much dignity as she could muster. "But perhaps that's good...give you boys something to do."

She took one last look around the room, feeling utterly shaken, before murmuring her goodbyes and rushing from the room.

"Blimey," she heard Harry call after her. "You have to wait and be interviewed!"

"See me tomorrow at my office," she called over her shoulder, eager to flee the place.

She felt the heat of Malfoy's gaze on her all the way to the exit, but refused to look his way, already terrified of what would become of this.

She may be successfully fleeing the situation now, but she knew it was far from over. A door had been opened, and she had an inkling there would be no reclosing it.

**~oOo*oOo~**

To her relief, it had been Harry to call on her the following day and take her official statement. Hermione was thankful for that at least—she could hardly trust herself around Malfoy. The man seemed to possess the uncanny ability to stun her senses, just one glance from him and he could wipe the slate of her mind completely blank.

She'd even begun to convince herself that what had happened between her and Malfoy had not been as serious as she'd suspected in the heat of the moment, and she shouldn't psych herself out so much about it. The reinforcement had worked, until she received a note on her desk the following day.

Her name was printed across the expensive looking parchment in elegantly written text.

Somehow, she knew immediately it was from him.

The note read simply: _Granger, I was nowhere near finished with you. We have some catching up to do. Expect my call._

She tried to calm her heart rate, but it seemed to suddenly race through her chest. So she hadn't imagined it, and Malfoy was not going to let her forget about it anytime soon.

**~oOo*oOo~**

Hermione managed to avoid any confrontations for the rest of the week. It was now the weekend, and she could finally put the tumultuous week behind her. No more dealing with irritable goblins, or a demanding Bill. What was more, she had successfully identified the wards that secured the Egyptian scarab she'd been working on all week, and, through a mixture of Runes and pages of complexly coded Arithmancy problems, had broken them. All in all, one might call it a successful week.

Certainly it warranted a hot bath and a glass - or two - of wine. She kicked off her pumps and was just about to shrug off her blazer when she heard a rap on the door.

Crookshanks made an angry hiss at the interruption.

"Who could that be, Crooks?" But even as she said it, awareness was beginning to dawn on her. The note had been a promise of sorts, but surely he couldn't mean to call on her at her home?

She strode to the door of her flat and looked through the peephole. Stunned, she backed away, before shaking herself and taking another look.

Malfoy was standing on her doorstep.

"Honestly, Hermione," she muttered to herself, shaking her head. "Just open the damned door already."

Curling her hand around the doorknob, she opened it with a jerk. "Hullo," she greeted, immensely pleased when her voice came out sure and steady.

He was dressed in a shirt and slacks, looking every inch a debonair Pureblood. Merlin, but his presence was almost _too much._ He swiftly captured her in his gaze and Hermione was helpless to look away.

"Hi," he returned. "I think we have a conversation to finish."

It wasn't a question, but rather a confident statement.

She blanched. "How do you even know where I live?"

He tilted his head quizzically. "Barring the fact that I'm an Auror? There's also the soirée I escorted you home from."

Hermione felt like a fool. Of course he had, ever the Gentlemen. And not even the obscene amount of fleurissimos she'd indulged in that night could make her forget. He probably thought her a few knuts short of a sickle.

"Right." Hermione attempted to regain her rapidly disappearing composure, a thing she often lost around him, so it would seem. "Come in, then. I can put on some tea."

Padding along the wooden floor barefoot, she wished she had not yet taken her heels off. She took a deep breath. It's just tea, she inwardly rallied. _With the man you were not but two days ago snogging across the floor in the bookstore. No big deal._

She reached the small kitchen of her flat and poured them both a cup of tea, before turning to give it to him. Hermione wished desperately it was the wine she was indulging in, and not just tea, if only to calm her fluttering nerves.

He took the cup from her and drank a sip, never taking his eyes away from her. She bit her lip and tried to quell her mounting excitement. Merlin, but the man had a dangerous effect on her. She was torn between simply giving in and throwing herself at him, or even better, running for the hills.

The silence was unnerving, and every second that drew on caused her heart to riot against her chest as if she were running a marathon.

When he did speak, she hardly felt any calmer than she did through the silence.

"Did you think you could avoid me?" His eyebrows rose in polite interest. "After the bookstore?"

Hermione set her tea down and smoothed her hands over her slacks. "I'm not avoiding anyone," she said as facetiously as she could manage. "Why would you think that?"

He shrugged. "You didn't go to the Alchemist tonight like you usually do after work, and everyone was there."

"Oh, that." She smiled dismissively. "I just wasn't feeling very festive, you know—it has been a rather trying week."

He squinted suspiciously, craning his head. "Is that the reason? I hadn't taken you for one so easily shaken."

She gave a jerky nod, wary of the way he seemed to see right through her words.

"Personally, I had attributed your caginess to something else entirely."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I seem to remember a particular line of questioning that got you...quite _worked up._ "

Hermione swallowed convulsively as tension shimmied in the air between them. "You have quite the imagination," she tried to tell him lightly, but her voice was oddly grating.

"Do I?" That feral look was back on his face—the one that caused her to feel slightly wild on the inside. "Perhaps we should test the theory."

He stepped closer and suddenly he was within reaching distance. She found her breathing hard to control.

"I do believe we were talking about control?"

Hermione nodded stiffly.

"I'd asked you a question." His hand drew to her right hip. "You'd given me an answer. Do you remember?"

Another nod.

"What did I ask you?"

The challenge in his voice was hard to ignore. Hermione felt compelled to answer. "You asked if I'd like to give up control." The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them. The past few days spent thinking of him and the years of built up tension had come to a boiling point. If he pushed her anymore, she would surely fling herself headfirst into the abyss he was steering her to, consequences be damned.

He stepped forward once more and then she was feeling every inch of him as he pressed her into the wooden cabinet. Heat pooled low in her abdomen and her whole world seem to reduce to Malfoy—the impressive wizard in front who had the rare ability to challenge her at every turn.

He leaned to whisper into her ear, but surprised her by licking the shell of it first. "And what did you say?" His right hand flexed around her hip, almost possessively.

Her fingers gripped the wood behind her, searching for something to anchor her to reality. Her eyelashes fluttered shut. "I said yes," she breathed.

And then he was kissing her neck, spreading feather-light kisses along the sensitive skin that sent fire racing through her veins. He stopped to nip at a particularly sensitive tendon, teeth tugging at her pulse point, before licking and sucking her skin.

Her fingers itched to grab ahold of him. She was thrashing, and noises of pleasure escaped her throat.

He wedged a leg between hers, and her eyes snapped open at the decadent sensation that shrilled through her from the contact. He kissed a trail to her cheek before reaching her lips and catching her in a searing kiss meant to dominate her. She kissed him back with abandon, her prior concerns disappearing like a spell in the night. She might have worried before that she was becoming too attached—and she was afraid of feeling so passionate for someone so quickly, but surely she had underestimated his passion for her. This hardly felt one-sided.

She became aware she was embarrassingly wet, and she couldn't remember a time when she'd reacted so quickly to a man's attentions.

Malfoy pushed his leg _up_ and it was pure torture not to throw herself down on him. She only just retained some control over her body, but unbidden desire for him uncurled from the depths of her being, causing her breasts to swell and ache with the urge to be touched by him. Her hands were slipping, but she knew if she relented her grip on the cabinets and gave into the need to touch him, she would be lost.

Hermione was coming up short for reasons why that would be a bad thing, or simply thrilled by the prospect of doing something _bad_.

Her nipples hardened to peaks and she couldn't help arching up against his broad chest. The friction was too decadent resist. Malfoy's hands began to wander, trailing from her hips and further up her sides. The sensation of his fingers running so closely to her aching breasts was _too much_ , but he seemed to be waiting, whether for her permission or simply to tease her, she wasn't sure.

" _Granger_."

Her head spun at the sound of his voice, so rife with sexual promise, her desire nearly blinded her.

"You must know how badly I want you, witch." The dark inflection of his tone was insatiable. "I need to know if you feel the same."

Judging by the rather insistent press of his arousal, Hermione knew he wasn't lying. But how did he feel about her, lust aside? Could she really bring herself to hook up with somebody not knowing where they were at in their relationship? The unwanted thoughts were beginning to pierce through the haze in her mind, but then he moved his leg once more and she keened on an upward thrust.

Her reservations were rather effectively dissolved.

She dragged her hands up his chest and anchored them around his neck so she could _move_. Malfoy gave a growl of approval which only incited her need all the more. Feeling liberated, she moved shamelessly over his leg, relishing in the friction. Spurred on by her participation, he yanked open her blazer and she helped him shrug it off. His fingers flexed around the expanse of her abdomen, bunching up the fabric of her dress shirt. She suddenly became consumed with the urge to remove it.

Fingers threaded through silky, platinum tresses, only stopping to tug on occasion. She did so like his hair thoroughly mussed. They broke away for a moment so Malfoy could pull her shirt over her head, and she hardly registered the change, until she realized that he had stopped moving.

Opening her eyes, she saw him staring at her chest, nothing but her pewter bra standing in the way of his roving hands.

"Beautiful, Granger."

"Malfoy," she said breathlessly. "I want you to touch me."

His eyes darkened, and then his hands were there—right where she _needed_ him. A moan unlike any sound she remembered making was wrenched from her throat. He massaged her through her bra, spurring on her need for him even more, before pushing it up to her neck.

The feel of the cold air hitting her hardened peaks momentarily surprised her, but then there was heat in the form of his hot mouth, latching onto her breast. Hermione threw her head back against the hard wood.

"Malfoy," she gasped.

His lips moved against her skin, warm and soft. Her fingers clutched at his shoulders as her body strained towards him, enjoying the feel of his mouth and hands on her breasts. The dampness between her legs was beginning to feel uncomfortable, and she knew Malfoy had to feel it through his trousers.

He broke away to her dismay. "To the couch," he rasped, before pulling her away from the kitchen. She didn't resist.

**~oOo*oOo~**

Draco was on fire.

He was so hard, it actually hurt.

The desperation to have Granger at this moment was overwhelming. They stumbled to the couch, and he possessed barely enough control to set her as gently as he could on the couch - though he suspected it wasn't very gentle - before he began pulling off his coat and tearing off his trousers. He wanted to feel her, skin against skin, without any barrier in the way.

He eyed her black slacks. "I want to touch you, Granger, under your clothes. Take them off for me."

Her honeyed gaze was so clouded by lust he could hardly contain himself. With shaky fingers, he saw her reach down to unbutton the slacks before pathetically attempting to pull them off. Growling, he helped her and then he was sitting beside her, lifting her leg to lick a trail along her lower leg and up the back of her knee. The taste of her skin fueled his desire just like the sounds she was making.

Her eyes wandered appreciatively over his chest, and she licked her thoroughly kissed lips. Emboldened, she reached up to run her fingers over his abdomen. Draco squeezed his eyes shut at the feel of her hands on him, worrying as they roamed lower. His control was definitely at risk of snapping, and he had to stop her.

"I don't think so," he murmured, before reaching into his haphazardly thrown coat and withdrawing his wand. " _Revincio_ ," he said, training the wand at her hands.

They clasped closed before flying above her head and staying there. His mind reeled as his fantasy became a reality. Granger restrained and willing—all for him.

"That's better." He leaned down to her chest, ready and bared to him. "I told you I wanted to see you tied up."

Her cheeks burned magenta but her eyes darkened, becoming slightly hooded.

"Now where did we leave off." He watched her squirm beneath him, as he took his time tasting her body. He let one his hands slide away from her breast and descend to the hem of her knickers. "I think we were right about here."

It was hard to think as he slipped his fingers under the hem of the only barrier between them, and slowly let them find their way to her silken folds, her scent permeating the air and causing his nostrils to flare.

She was soaking wet.

He found her swollen bundle of nerves easily, and he slipped one finger into her pulsating heat, gritting his teeth as her tight walls clenched him desperately.

"Fuck, Granger." He couldn't help but flex his hips reflexively, his cock positively aching with the need to not only enter her, but pound into her urgently. He'd been waiting for this moment for far too long, and he hoped he had the patience to make this good for her. He wished to possess her irrevocably, and make her his.

**~oOo*oOo~**

Hermione was hanging on the edge, so close to reaching her bliss she could taste it.

Malfoy was working her expertly, and with her hands restrained, she could do nothing but thrash her lower body against his hand, relish the feel of his mouth on her breasts. She became mad with the need to reach the precipice of her desire. With his free hand, his fingers tangled in her hair ferociously, and her body became overwhelmed with all the sensations she felt.

Just like she'd always thought wherever Malfoy was concerned, he was too much. Too much wizard or man or something. Hermione was threadbare and completely at his mercy. He coaxed her so skillfully to delirium but yanked her back cruelly just when she teetered precariously on the edge. She was reduced to a sobbing mess and had resorted to begging him to let her come.

He relished in her distress.

Taking advantage of her desperation, he forced her to name exactly what she wanted him to do, and rewarded her when she said those filthy things. Her body thrummed with delicious anticipation, her inner walls clenching and unclenching around his finger. A part of her resented being so helpless, but she was also equal parts intrigued.

More than anything, she wished for Malfoy to lose control.

So she continued to beg him, and to say what she wanted from him, but he seemed content to draw out her pleasure, making her wait for it. Hermione could feel him against her thigh, hardened and _so ready_ for her. Yanking on her invisible binds, she wished she could feel his arousal, could urge him to stop torturing her, and meet both of their needs.

"Draco!" she couldn't help but scream. " _Please_."

Calling him by his given name seemed to stall him. He picked up the pace and worked her clit furiously, and she pitched violently into her climax as waves of pleasure seared through her. She had yet to come down from the blissful high, when he withdrew his fingers and she felt him at her entrance.

The concern she had felt earlier was far from her thoughts, but the words he said to her then would have silenced them.

"I've wanted you for so long, Granger, _Hermione_. I'm going to make you mine and make sure you stay that way."

She didn't argue over the archaic notion, lest he stop what he was doing. The feel of his hard flesh sliding through her slickness when she was still sensitive and trembling from the most intense orgasm she'd ever experienced had her hanging on the edge of titillating anticipation.

Nestled between her thighs, he pushed forward in one fell swoop, sheathing himself to the hilt. His eyes screwed shut and Hermione marveled at how beautiful he looked, but she couldn't stop her inner walls from fluttering around him, even when he told her to, and threatened that he would pull out and leave her wanting if she didn't stop squeezing him. Not feeling the least bit obedient, she squeezed him all the more tightly, until his pace picked up rapidly and he began to snap his hips at the rough, and rapid speed they both wanted.

"I can't stop it," he told her as he continued to move inside her at a wild pace. He shifted her legs and adjusted his angle, his fingers finding their way to her clit. "Maybe next time...but for now...you need to lose control again… _godsyoufeelsofuckinggood._ "

The new angle hit a sweet spot deep inside her, and that coupled with the movement of his fingers had her arching forward. Her binds snapped, but she couldn't even marvel at the fact that she'd performed wandless magic, because sizzling rapture swarmed through her body like a powerful spell, and with a groan, Malfoy followed her over and into the abyss.

Minutes later when she had caught her breath and was running her fingers down the length of his back, she asked him languidly, "So does this mean I'm yours?"

He pulled her to him possessively and nuzzled her neck. "Of course it does."

"Well," she clarified. "That means you're mine, too."

**~oOo*oOo~**


End file.
